Crimson Sweets
by Ameba
Summary: One shots on Ciel's investigations, sweets, and discreet murders. All centered on delectable desserts. Of course, SebaCiel.


Augh...

I'm tired.

This is the first time I've attempted a LONG chapter, and if you don't think this is long...then...my gosh...

So.

Reviews for a starving, hungry author? Done on a whim...excuse the descriptive adjectives, it was for this stupid english thing. I might continue it.

If I feel like it. ;D

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**Crimson Sweets**

"Welcome. I am the Earl Phantomhive." A smile played on shell pink lips, corners playfully turned up in condescending amusement.

Alistar Carstairs looked up in shock at the figure descending from the massive, elegant staircase built by ivory marble slabs impressively gilded with gold. He momentarily forgot to close his mouth, gaping at the so-called "Earl". It was a few minutes until the thud of the heavy cherry doors, bordered with panels of delicately twisted wrought iron frames brought him back to his present situation. Words alone could not illustrate his astonishment. Could it be… were the frivolous rumors he regarded as utter blasphemy actually true?

Cerulean eyes glittered, a sapphire mirror reflecting endless depth, paired with lily-white skin of an aristocrat.

It could not be.

The Queen's Dog…was this?

_This_ had the community of crime begging, no, crying for mercy at its feet? _This_ was responsible for the destruction of immensely successful prostitution rings, gambling empires, and discrete opium trades, terrorizing the illegal transgression in the dark alleyways of the London slums? This was the Hound from Hades, the Queen's clandestine, underground arsenal of erasing the black marks on her record. Her Majesty's soiled slave, to be concise.

In a world of unabashed evil, this aristocrat of evil reigned king, carnage following with every bloody footprint. Ruthless, twisted, merciless. Shameless, the head of the Phantomhives was just that. Ironic too, it was, for the guise of this beast was the most successful toy and confectionary company in Europe – Funtom, a play on words. Who knew that such a horror was present in the people's everyday lives, creeping into the pure innocence of the children, toy by toy, sweet by sweet?

Who would believe…

The mastermind, executioner of this horror, was just a mere twelve year old boy?

"Care to join me, Sir Carstairs? It is time for tea." Just a few words, yes, but Alistar could not mistake the mocking tone in the boy's polite invitation. The young man walked down, his leather shoes and cane making a slight sound on the paved floor of the hall. "Sebastian," he called quietly, as if toying with the name on his lips, and left.

Alistar remained at the door, waiting until he could somewhat regained control of himself. He took time to glance around at his surroundings.

Impressive.

Striking, really.

One could not agree more that the décor was impeccable – each blushing, cream-colored rose was placed with care in its china vase. Heavy Victorian drapes fell down gracefully in a folded mauve, accenting the arched windows of the immense Phantomhive mansion. Imposing busts of long dead aristocrats were artfully scattered around the huge foyer, staring out with dead eyes and blank faces besides plush velvet mahogany furniture specially imported from the Netherlands.

Beautiful?

More ostentatious, thought the newcomer, but his brief thoughts suddenly shattered when he noticed the silent entrance of the butler beside him. Impeccably dressed in a black tailcoat and pristine white gloves, long tresses of midnight black hair revealed a dangerous, yet unmistakably handsome face. Alistar jumped, startled into laughing. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? This butler was more suited to the image he had of the infamous Dog of the Queen, not some beautiful, arrogant boy-child!

"My master, Sir," the butler said, deep burgundy eyes flashing, as if reading his thoughts, "is not to be trifled with. This way, please." Without a word, but with a slight hint of a cruel smirk, the butler turned on his heel and led Alistar out of the grand hall.

With each step, Alistar was getting more anxious. He desperately wanted to wipe his sweaty palms on something. Like a frightened mouse caught in a trap, he advanced hesitantly, seating himself in front of the fragile child. "Ceylon Tea from Royal Doulton?" Ciel offered, motioning to Sebastian to pour the guest some tea from the beautiful porcelain Wedgewood tea set. Alistar shook his head, averting his eyes, and breathed deeply, preparing to look at the Earl full in the face.

A mistake.

He fought the urge to scream as desperately tried to rip his gaze from the Earl. It seemed like a sapphire lance had pierced his skull, twisting ever so gruesomely, clawing greedily at his memories. His eyes…his eyes contained unimaginable horrors. All this was disguised as a child's sweet, innocent, naïve face of harmonic beauty. The boy smiled a small, terrible smile, filled with an adult's cynicism and scorn.

For the first time, Alistar realized this boy was not to be underestimated. He managed to choke out, "I am deeply pleased to make your acquaintance, Earl…" he sputtered, and continued, "I heard the unfortunate passing away of your parents several months ago. I offer my condolences to your sorrow." For a second, Ciel's impassive reserve slipped, and malicious anger flashed in the Earl's eyes as he set down his teacup with unnecessary force. "What," he spat out bitterly, "do you know about my Father? You know nothing, you're just an ignorant –"

Alistar cursed himself internally at his stupidity. It was a wrong thing to say, but he heaved a sigh of relief as he saw the Earl regain his composure, apologizing, "I'm sorry. The death of my parents has changed me so. I suppose," he said bitterly, "the rotting corpses of my parents must be trying to claw out of their coffins, aghast at my rudeness." Alistar laughed nervously, too fearful of making the same mistake, and tried to steer the conversation towards clearer waters.

"I was surprised, Earl, at first. I would have never presumed that you were the brilliant head of such a successful business empire! You never show your face…after all, Funtom flourished only after you took over…"

Ciel suddenly interrupted him at that moment, his whole countenance brightening into a look of such pure delight. "If you would hold on a minute," he turned to Sebastian; the butler was giving his master a plate of Strawberry Mille Feuille. It looked truly delicious, but Alistar once again refused Ciel's offer to dine, afraid that he would later hurl the remains of the dessert later, due to nerves. "A pity…" the child sighed, "I've never had sweets better than Sebastian's."

Ciel took a dainty bite of the airy pastry, buttery and flaky, topped with richly churned cream and Belgian chocolate sauce and immaculately sliced strawberries. He contemplated, "The pastry is from Greece. The filling," Ciel continued as he licked the prongs of the fork, "isCrème Bavaroise. As for the strawberries…imported from France." Ciel smiled at his butler, "I was looking forward to today's dessert. Sebastian never fails to surprise me."

"That's quite an important reason for a child!"Alistar blurted out; surprised at the Earl's avid enthusiasm, childish obsession, for sweets…it seemed so out of character. He quickly tried to redeem himself, "Earl…it may seem quite brash and rude of me, but it seems like you truly are a connoisseur of desserts."

"Is it so wrong?" the boy expertly maneuvered the bite-sized pieces of his dessert, taking care not to accidentally drop some on his beautifully custom tailored outfit. "I am but a mere child with a grandiose title. Bratty, pompous, you might say, but even I admit I am quite young."

At this remark, Sebastian, who stood by his master burst out laughing. "My, my, young master," he purred in his velvet voice, "I would have never imagined the day you would admit your flaws." Ciel glared at his butler, but refrained from saying anything. Alistar thought it was queer that master and servant conversed as equals, but he dismissed the erroneous notion.

"You know, Alistar," Ciel replied in a conversational tone, "Sweets…are a bit like…alcohol. They fill the void in my heart…only temporarily." He continued, "To me, sweets are fleeting, ethereal pleasures. A taste of heaven, you can call it, for you see, I can never go. I have committed much too many sins to achieve paradise…" He trailed off.

This child, Alistar thought, was a twisted monster.

"Not alcohol…perhaps, maybe, drugs are a more apt description." Ciel's seemingly innocent tête-à-tête made Alistar's blood run cold. He couldn't have possibly known…right? "Let's discuss your business, my friend," a cold, calculating expression momentarily occupied Ciel's facial expressions. "You want the Funtom Company to endorse in your new candy product, am I right?"

"Yes, Earl. The new chocolate toffee treats will surely be a hit among your clients…surely this is a win-win situation –" Ciel leaned in, grinning madly. "Of course. You needn't say. Children are greedy when it comes to sweets. However, I'm not here to listen to you advertise your product, nor grovel at my feet for my assistance. Don't play dumb with me, comrade. Surely you know that I am not a bumbling, stupid fool. Chocolate toffee? Are you trying to be comical? Your little confectionary company is just another pitiful pretense to smuggle opium in London, am I right? Therefore, you will be filthy rich, and England will become another hazy opium den…a win-win situation?"

"I..I…" Alistar stammered, eyes wide with distress and alarm. "That's blasphemous, Earl! How could you insinuate…that I, a lowly commoner, do such…such a –"

"There's no need to hide anymore, Alistar. It's already undone." Ciel stood up, his dessert dish clattering onto the rich Persian rug.

"Sebastian. Take care of this nuisance." Sebastian's wine colored eyes brightened and Alistar panicked when he saw him preparing to take out something sharp looking from under his silver platter. "Yes, master," he murmured, stepping closer to Alistar. "Oh," the child waved his hand, adding an afterthought, "Don't let it stain the furniture."

Alistar's eyes wheeled wildly about, it couldn't be, it couldn't possible be! How could he…how could this little devil have known?

"You bastard! Devil Spawn! Queen's filthy watchdog, you're disgusting, dirty slave!"

Ciel ignored his slurs. "So you knew. I am the Queen's loyal pawn, and that is all. Our little game of chess is over, my friend. It was a pity, Alistar Carstairs. A pity you refused my offer of dessert…it was going to be your last guilty pleasure. You really should have treasured it…I gave you the chance, but it's too late." Ciel smirked and tilted his head, giving his victim a dazzling smile.

"Goodbye Alistar. Farewell. May we meet in Hell…" The Earl Phantomhive turned around. "Dispose of him, Sebastian."

"Yes, my lord," came the hushed reply.

Alistar Carstairs never opened his eyes again.

"Begin preparations for tomorrow, Sebastian. We must begin anew…"


End file.
